Ham and Mustard Sandwich
by GenerationZ
Summary: Ron craves a ham and mustard sandwich. Will he get one? Pairings: Ron and the mustard.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters. I do, however, own this plot so if I see any stories with Ron wanting a HAM AND MUSTARD SANDWICH, I will sick my kitten on you._

_Had the idea when I was dieing of hunger and made myself a ham and mustard sandwich. Thought it was a good way to say hi to all my lovely readers and a way to tell you all that this is the funniest thing I've written. I love it and think I might have children with this story._

_Hope you like it too._

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All Ron wanted was a ham and mustard sandwich. The red haired wizard had been craving it the entire train ride from Hogwarts back to the burrow and nothing else would do. It was a pity that upon arriving on the first day of holidays, he found out that they were out of mustard. A darn shame.

Ron sat cross legged in the mismatched living room, cursing his current state. He had been home for two days yet he still couldn't make a ham and mustard sandwich. It was a rather depressing thought. Ron tried to suppress his craving by eating a piece of fudge Fred had posted.

That had resulted in his turning mustard yellow and antlers sprouting from his head.

"Damn Fred," Ron muttered as he sat narrowing his eyes the fireplace. "I am going to kill him." He pushed himself off the couch and walked towards the kitchen.

Ten minutes later; every draw had been searched, every cupboard door open, the contents of each place he searched lain across the lino floor.

"Damn!" He cursed. "Where the hell is the mustard?"

He heard footsteps, muffled by the living room carpet, and he quickly jumped from his kneeling position on the floor to lean casually against the kitchen counter.

Harry walked through the archway and raised his eyebrows. "I see you've been busy."

"I can't find the damn mustard," Ron growled in reply, looking achingly towards the things lying across the floor. "I just want a mustard and ham sandwich."

Walking towards the mess on the floor, Harry laughed. "Why don't you go out and get some mustard?"

Ron sighed. "Because I am under house arrest. Fred and George are coming to stay for a few weeks and mum insists that someone has to be here to great them."

"Where's your mum then?" Harry asked as he continued to eye the cupboard in humor. "And why was I invited?"

Ron rolled his eyes as he said, "I invited you and Hermione because I cannot stand Fred and George on their own. I needed back ups."

Harry chuckled and stuck his hand into his pocket to pull out his wand. With a casual flick, the object on the ground flew back into their proper places. "Wouldn't want Molly to have a fit."

"Oh Mr. I-am-so-great-because-we-can-use-magic-everyday-now…" Ron said sarcastically.

"Whoa," Harry replied quickly, holding up his hands, "I am not the one you should be snapping at. You could've asked me to bring you some mustard."

Ron shook his head.

"Why not?" The black haired teen asked. "Better yet, couldn't you just flick your wand for some mustard?"

Ron shook his head again. "This is not just any mustard Harry; this is the crème dele crème mustard, flown from the states. This is the mustard that would make any model fall to her knees and beg them to give her a hotdog. This is the mustard that looks so fantastic that you can get a spoon out and eat it then and there. This is the mustard-"

"No more," Harry groaned. "I get the idea now."

Ron looked sadly around the kitchen. "I need a ham and mustard sandwich. I can't eat anything else."

A chuckle was heard from behind them and both teenagers spun around to see Hermione standing in the archway, close to tears from laughing. She was doubled over and clutching her stomach as loud laughs escaped her mouth.

"Nice to know you support me Hermione," Ron said disgustedly. "Can't you see that I am seriously distressed at the moment?"

The laughing faded away and Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's a sandwich Ron."

"Oh no," he replied blissfully, "this isn't just any other sandwich. This is the-"

Harry put up his hand to stop his friend. "We don't need to hear that again mate…"

"Right. Okay. Alrighty."

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances as they both tried to hold their laughter in. "Where do you usually get this mustard Ron?" Hermione asked him through clenched teeth to keep herself from laughing.

Ron looked to the ceiling and his whole body relaxed as if just the memories of his favorite sandwich brought him into bliss. "Mum usually buys it at the muggle shop just up the road. It has the best range of sauces and spreads. They have sauces called relish, sweet chilli, mayonnaise, dijonaise and so much more."

Hermione moved towards him and checked his pulse. She turned to Harry and said, "It is confirmed that Ron still lives. I was starting to think he had died and gone to sauce heaven."

Harry chuckled. "Look Ron, we will go get your mustard. What is it called?"

"'Chuck Landry's Amazing Mustard'," he replied quickly.

Shoving his wand into his pocket, Harry nodded. "Right," he told a blissful looking Ron and turned to Hermione. "We can apparate there then quickly grab the mustard, pay for it and go. I think if we wait any longer all Ron will think about for the rest of his life will be mustard."

They quickly agreed and apparated to the place Ron had told him about. Because of muggles, they had apparated to the back of the small shop and slipped over the locked side gate.

Harry led the way through the automatic doors. Hermione followed him hit but was hit with a sudden burst of perfume when she stepped through. "What the…" she murmured and looked around to find her attacker.

The attacker was a small, petite blonde girl he looked about the same age as them. She had a round bottle of yellow perfume in her hand and a grin spread across her face. "Sorry mate, I think I may have hit you with a little too much," she said with a heavy Australian accent. "Normally you don't press it the entire way down."

"What are you doing spraying ladies who walk into this shop to do grocery shopping?" Hermione asked in an annoyed tone. "Why would people want perfume on to buy things they are going to eat?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that my job is worthless?"

Hermione widened her eyes. "Of course not-"

"Then why on bloody earth are you questioning what I do for a living!" The blonde, whose name tag said Mandy, shoved the perfume bottle into her pocket. "Don't I deserve a little respect?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said. "All I came in here was for mustard."

Mandy's face twisted. "So I'm not good enough anymore?" She raised herself to full height with her head barely at Hermione's chin. "Listen here _mate_, because I'm only going to say it once. I like my job. Took me three and a half years to save up for my ticket over here and I'm not about to move back to Sydney just because you think my job isn't good enough."

Hermione shook her head in amazement. "I never said your job wasn't good enough-"

"Then what the hell is your problem?" Mandy hissed. "Don't you like Australians? Do you have something against an ex-farmer spraying you with perfume? Do you think I'm some kind of Bogan? Aren't I worthy enough to be in your presence just because I like eating steaks my dad made on a Barbie? Is it my fault I have mozzie bites up my arm?"

Hermione chuckled. "Look I just came in here for some mustard," she told the blonde before walking away. The last thing she heard before turning into the sauces isle was "If you want to have something that's a beaut on your toast try some Vegemite."

She spotted Harry halfway down the isle looking at a range of orange spreads. When she reached him, Hermione said, "I think Australians are mad."

"Mmmhmm…" Harry replied as he scratched his chin. "There are too many types of mustard here."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What was the name of the mustard?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I forgot. Did you remember it?"

"No, he told you."

Harry shook his head and cursed. "Damn." He ran a hand throw his black hair. "Maybe we could quickly go back and ask him what it was then come back again."

Hermione shook her head. "No way, I am not having another encounter with that Australian again. I had no idea what was going on."

They were silent for a few minutes as both thought of the name. Unable to come up with anything, Harry sighed again. "I think I best option is to grab a handful of bottle and hope that it is the right one."

Hermione nodded in agreement and helped pick up an armful of bottles. They carried it to the till, paid for it and walked around to the side of the shop. Neither bothered to jump the fence, they apparated from that spot.

After waiting for Hermione to arrive in The Burrow's yard, they carried their armfuls of mustard through the door and into the kitchen, laying them on the kitchen counter. Ron rushed into the kitchen with eye alight.

"Why did you buy so many bottles of mustard?" He asked as he surveyed the bottles.

"We couldn't remember which one you wanted so we put a few types hoping that we might have gotten the right one," Harry sighed. "Dig away."

Looking as though Christmas had come early, Ron ran towards the pull and searched. He threw the ones that weren't right into the bin. Hermione and Harry watched warily, praying that they wouldn't have to go back to the shop with a mad Aussie and a huge range of yellow bottles.

"Ta da!" Ron shouted after four minutes into his search. He was holding up a small bottle with the title 'Chuck Landry's Amazing Mustard' printed in bold, black letters. "My long wait is over."

Hermione and Harry thankfully moved into the living room as Ron moved around the kitchen, merrily taking out things needed to make his sandwich. He danced as he took the ham of the fridge and slapped a few pieces onto a piece of bread. He whistled a tune as he opened the bottle and squeezed a generous amount of yellow musterd onto the other piece of bread. Using a knife he quickly spread the thick spread and slapped that piece of bread onto the other; with the ham and mustard meeting in the middle.

A song escaped his mouth when he grabbed out a knife and carefully cut his prize in half. Lifting the first half to his mouth, Ron prepared to take his long awaited bite.

However, it was not to be because as if in slow motion, a hand slapped itself to Ron's sandwich. A second later, he pulled the bread off his face as the ham slipped off his cheek. Mustard dripped off his nose.

Ron narrowed his eyes at his grinning brother. He took a step forward. "I went through hell to get this sandwich," he told Fred with menace in his voice. "I think I'm going to kill you."

Fred grinned wider and as quick as a flash he picked the other half of Ron's sandwich and smooshed against Ron's nose. "What, not even a welcome back?" He laughed as he bolted out of the room.

Ron growled and picked up the mustard bottle, thinking of ways to get back at his brother. If he couldn't eat it, Fred was going to have it. Ron picked up a couple of pieces of ham.

"Oh Freeeeeeed!" Ron called as he walked into the living room. "Want a ham and mustard sandwich?"

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_For all those Aussie's wanting my blood, don't worry, I'm Aussie. I think we are all mad. But I also think we all love it ;-) You know you do baby. Don't deny those animal urges._

_I incorporated how my sister talks. Believe, it is exactly how my sister speaks._

_Hope you like my strange little one shot. I had this idea as I made myself a ham and mustard sandwich, except, my mustard was called Mild American Mustard. No idea where I got the name from._


End file.
